


Without The Mask, Where Will You Hide?

by ZarryFTZouis



Series: Chrissy's Oneshots [70]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barista Zayn, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Costume Parties & Masquerades, M/M, Prince Louis, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarryFTZouis/pseuds/ZarryFTZouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a reckless Prince.</p><p>Zayn's just a barista.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without The Mask, Where Will You Hide?

**Author's Note:**

> I did my research on the royal family and came to "fuck it, Louis is 21 in this fic, regardless of the ages of the royal family, THEIR AGES CAN BE SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT HERE."
> 
> Title from Evanescence's "Everybody's Fool". 
> 
> Also, next fic I'll post won't be a sequel to "S'Initie" if you were looking for that. (Sorry)

“Louis William Troy, you’re supposed to procure an heir, not just going around and–”

“Jesus Christ, mother, I kissed a bloke, not commit a felony,” Louis cuts his mother off, rolling his eyes. “And if you want an heir, I can happily marry a guy and, you know, adopt a child.”

“Our bloodline has to live, I don’t want a bloody child from the adoption centre,” his mother snaps at him.

“Then get the heirs from my sisters when they’re old enough in a decade or so,” Louis wants to escape this situation. “Can I go now?”

“Is that an actual question?” Louis sighs and shakes his head. “Just be careful in the future.”

Most of the times, Louis hates being a prince, mainly because his mother is so anal about most of the things he does. He’s still well, five days shy from his 21st birthday. His grandmother, Queen Elizabeth the Second has be the monarch of England for, like, a zillion years and his father is next in line if she were to perish. Since Louis is the eldest of his father’s, Prince Charles, children, he knows that he will be the heir when his father comes to power. The problem with that is that he’s gay, and that’s never good in the world of the royals. He knows his parents’ plan of arranging a marriage between him and the princess of Holland or something.

“You look like the princess just yelled at you for last hour or so,” the familiar voice rings out, making Louis smile despite what just happened. “I’m guessing you made the headlines.”

“I guess, yeah,” Louis shrugs, turning around to hug Liam, his best mate since he was a mere toddler. Liam is the son of the Duke of York, and due to the political shite, their families mixed a lot and the prince befriended the son of the duke. “So anything I should know about?”

“I don’t suppose your mother is okay with the fact that you have no interest in getting an heir from your girlfriend,” Liam laughs, which Louis glares at. “So, what are you going to do for your coming of age party?”

“Oh God, I was hoping you forgot about that,” Louis groans. “I dunno, invite people from age of eighteen to twenty five to a masquerade for a week?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Liam strokes his lightly shaded chin. “But you have to be more specific, like, only from London or the metropolitan of London?”

“I’m going to organise that with my attendees later.”

-

**Two days later**

“Zayn!” Zayn groans and suppresses his urge to bang his head against the counter as his best mate/co-worker calls his name. “Have you heard about Prince Louis’ big masquerade?”

“No,” Zayn replies flatly, cleaning the countertop with a rag. “Why?”

“We just happened to meet the criteria of the age and area for that coming of age party!” Harry giggles, thrusting a piece of paper under his nose. “I hope his friend will be there too, you know, that son of Duke of York?”

“You have a crush on the duke’s son?” Zayn arches a brows. “Didn’t expect that.”

“My point is that we need to go shopping for suits and masks!” Harry ignores Zayn’s comment. “After the shift, of course.”

“The pay is a bit shite here, do you really think I can afford a fucking suit?” Zayn hisses, then a customer comes through the door. “Hello, what can I get for you today?”

“A large caramel latte and that blueberry muffin would be fine,” the ginger bloke tells him.

He makes the coffee and gives the muffin to the bloke. He gets the payment and hands the change.

“The suits will be, like, ₤150 if you get the cheapest one,” Harry grins.

 

Three hours later, after the afternoon shift, Zayn finds himself stood in front of a suit shop with Harry. He heaves a sigh and enters the shop, looking for the suit that might be the best for him. He looks at the suits of different shades of grey and he zeroes on one of them.

“I’m guessing you’re going to the masquerade ball held by Prince Louis?” The worker asks him. “A lot of people have been getting suits lately, and we have masks for only 15 each if you want them.”

“Yeah, my friend persuaded me into going there with him,” Zayn takes the dark grey suit out of the rack and looks at it. “How much is this?”

“165,” she tells him. “Is that your size?”

“Yeah, can I try it on?”

-

Zayn ends up buying the suit and four masks (he will kill Harry for making him pay so much for something he couldn’t care less about) and returns to the flat he shares with Harry. Harry seems to be full of energy, excited about the stupid ball.

“I’m trying to sleep here!” Zayn hisses at Harry. “So keep it the fuck down.”

“Rude,” Harry calls out from his room.

_God, why am I so nice to Harry?_

-

“I look hot in a white suit, who’d have thought?” Louis looks at his own reflexion in the full-length mirror. “Liam, look at how fit I look!”

“You’re so conceited sometimes,” Liam rolls his eyes, dressed in bluish grey tux. “So, are you ready for the first night of the three more to come?”

“Hell yeah!”

 

Half an hour later, Louis is in the main hall, wearing an ornate white mask that only hides the area around his eyes. Anyone can recognise him as the prince. The hall is crowded with people wearing different colours of suits and dresses.

He soon finds a lad with dark grey suit and full-face crimson mask with patterns in gold hue, looking extremely unsure of himself. He decides to humour himself by talking to the lad.

“Hello,” Louis smiles at the lad. “Not enjoying the ball?”

“Holy shit, I mean, forgive my profanity, your Highness,” the bloke swears, then apologises. “It’s great, but my friend dragged me here in hopes of finding the Duke of York’s son.”

“Ah, I see,” Louis finds his voice attractive, and wonders if his face is as well. “Care for a dance?”

“I’m just a commoner, I shouldn’t dance with you,” the lad shakes his head.

“This entire hall is filled with commoners and some of the dukes’, earls’ and whatever’s sons and daughters, I think I was willing to dance with you,” _peasants_ , Louis adds silently.

“I’m a horrid dancer,” the lad warns him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist. He can feel the warmth radiating through the silk gloves.

They sway their bodies to the beat of some Sam Smith song, then Louis gets an idea. He turns around so that his arse his pressed to the stranger’s dick and starts to grind against him. He hears a sharp gasp in his ear and repeats the actions.

“Mm, you like that?” Louis asks, his hands reaching behind to wrap around the lad’s neck. “I’d love to see you without your mask, love.”

“Good luck with that, your Highness,” the reply is a silken purr, then he nibbles on Louis’ earlobe. “You’ve got a nice arse, Prince Louis.”

The lad walks away after that.

-

“So, met anyone interesting last night?” Harry nudges at Zayn’s side with his elbow. “Sadly, I did not see the duke’s son.”

“Probably didn’t want to bother with a peasant like you,” Zayn gets a slap on his chest. “Um, Prince Louis talked to me.”

“Shut up,” Harry props his hands under his chin. “Do tell!”

“I thought you had a thing for Liam, not Prince Louis,” Zayn rolls his eyes. “I don’t know, you ditched me and I was all alone when he just came to me.”

Harry wiggles his eyebrows.

“You pervert,” Zayn sips his coffee. Everyone who works at the café gets an employee discount, and Zayn’s making a good usage out of it. “We danced and he just grinded his arse against my dick for no apparent reason.”

“Your face may have been covered, but your voice is semi-attractive,” Harry supplies helpfully. “Now, did anything else happen?”

“No, I left before my dick got the wrong idea,” Zayn groans. “Are we going to the ball tonight as well?”

“The ball is on from 22nd to 25th, of course I’m going,” Harry rolls his eyes. “This is my only chance to see Liam.”

“How determined of you.”

-

“You look like you’re looking forward for the ball,” Liam comments as he slides into Louis’ room. “Did you meet someone last night?”

“Well, there was this lad,” Louis adjusts his tie, “couldn’t see his face at all, but his voice was super-hot.”

“Isn’t your mother not okay with the fact that you have no interest in producing whatsoever?”

“I’m gay, and surrogate mothers exist,” Louis rolls his eyes. Tonight, he’s wearing midnight black suit. “So, let’s go, yeah?”

 

Louis is admittedly looking for that bloke from last night. He doesn’t know how he’ll find the bloke, but he just wants to. He can tell that the lad was from a working class, yes, but it’s not a crime for a royal to talk to _peasants_.

“Looking for me?” Louis turns around at the words. “Pleasure seeing you again, Prince Louis.”

The bloke’s in the same dark grey suit, but he has a different colour of tie and mask tonight. Instead of crimson, it’s black with silver patterns. Infuriatingly, the mask is yet again covering his entire face.

“I should at least get your name,” Louis pouts at the taller lad. “And what if I was looking for you?”

“You shouldn’t just mingle with a commoner like me, your Highness,” the masked lad advises him. “I’m just a lowly café barista.”

“I should just go to all the cafés in London just to find you then,” Louis jokes, throwing his arms around the other lad’s neck. “You owe me a dance.”

“Do I?” Louis sucks in a breath when the stranger pulls him close, barely an inch between their bodies, and easily towers over him. “Is that what his Highness wants?”

“Maybe,” Louis replies, letting the other do whatever he pleases.

A soft laughter fills his ear before he’s flipped around, his back pressed to the taller lad’s front. He can feel his cheeks are flushed at the movement. A pair of hands grip Louis’ waist securely as their bodies sway. “Call me Zee,” the bloke — Zee — whispers before he, yet again, disappears into the crowd.

-

“You’re such a teasing fuck,” Harry tells Zayn at their shift at Costa. “Really, you just grinded your dick against Prince Louis’ arse and walked away?”

“He’s hotter in person, okay?” Zayn presses his urge to hit Harry with the can of whipped cream. “And I told him I work at a café, how stupid am I?”

“There’s, like, a million cafés in London, he won’t find you that easily,” Harry reassures him. “Ooh, I met Liam yesterday!”

“Good for you,” Zayn pours the coffee for the drive-thru order. “Did you get his dick up your arse yet?”

“No,” Harry rolls his eyes. “But he liked talking to me. He’s gonna be the duke when his father dies, just imagine me as the duke’s husband!”

“Pace yourself, Harold,” Zayn hands the coffee to the driver. “So, do you think I should just reveal myself to the Prince?”

“Duh.”

-

“Will you _please_ stop talking about that Harry bloke?” Louis groans at his friend. “You just met him.”

“Hypocritical much?” Liam raises a brow. “You’re quite smitten with that Zee bloke.”

“Alright, you can talk about Harry all you like then,” Louis finishes buttoning up his shirt. “If there’s more to how heavenly his curls are.”

“I’d love to pull at those curls as he blows me,” Louis chokes on air. “And I’m not kidding.”

“Why don’t you get his number and go on a date like normal people who fancy each other?” Louis suggests.

“Oh fine, I will.”

 

“You’re being bloody obvious that you’re waiting for me,” Louis laughs as he turns around to greet Zee. “Hello, your Highness.”

“Hello Zee,” Louis can imagine full lips under the silver mask with white markings. “Are you going to stay with me all night tonight? It’s my birthday, after all.”

“Is that your birthday wish?” Zee winds an arm around Louis’ waist, pulling him closer to his body. “If so, I’ll stay.”

“It is,” Louis wants to kiss Zee so bad.

“Alright,” Zee dips his head and nuzzles his mask-covered nose against his neck. “I’ll stay.”

“I want to see you without that mask,” Louis pouts.

“Maybe some other time,” Zee chuckles. “Happy birthday, your Highness.”

Zee pulls the mask up just enough to uncover his lips and kisses Louis’ cheek. Louis touches the spot Zayn just kissed, his face flushed like a schoolgirl who just got complimented by her crush.

“If only I could do everything I wanted to do with you…” Zee sounds like he’s talking more to himself than to Louis.

“Don’t leave me for tonight,” Louis gives the order to Zee. “That’s my birthday wish to you, remember?”

“What, are you suggesting we ditch the ball _you_ organised so that we can shag or something?” Louis can see something snapping in Zee’s eye. “I won’t be used by a royalty.”

“I’m not — why do you think I’m using you?” Louis’ anger snaps. “Just because we’ve seen each other for three times doesn’t mean I can’t feel something for you.”

“Then good luck with them,” Zee whispers in his ear. “Because I don’t plan on falling for anyone.”

“If you leave, I swear I’ll have you beheaded,” Louis growls at the infuriating lad.

“This isn’t the fourteenth century, your Highness,” Zee rolls his eyes. “And lucky for you, I’m a man of my word.”

-

“So you spent the entire night with the Prince,” Harry chirps as he cleans the mugs. Zayn just wants to ignore the lad. “How was it?”

“We just danced and talked,” Zayn shrugs. “Did you see Liam?”

“Yeah, we exchanged numbers and shite.”

“‘Shite’ meaning exactly what?” Zayn gets a suspicious tug in his stomach.

“Just because Liam is close friends with Prince Louis doesn’t mean they’ll come to the café together, Zayn,” Harry rolls his eyes at him.

-

It’s the last night of the four-night-long masquerade, and Louis can’t find Zee at all. Liam gave him a sympathetic look, but didn’t say anything.

“Where are you?” Louis mumbles as the time passes by.

-

“Why are we doing an all-day shift when there are other people the manager could have called?” Zayn complains as he opens the café with Harry. “Like, I need my beauty sleep.”

“Hush you,” Harry retorts.

For hours, nothing interesting happens, then he hears the girls screeching.

“Oh my God, Prince Louis is here!”

“Fuck,” Zayn curses immediately. “Harry, if I take his order — what the fuck are you doing?” Zayn growls as Harry hides under the counter. “Harry, take Prince Louis’ order!”

“Nah, you do it.”

Prince Louis approaches the counter and Zayn curses silently. In the broad daylight, the Prince’s eyes shine like blue topaz so brightly.

“What’s your best coffee here?” The prince asks. “And hurry up, I haven’t got all day.”

“People like mocha latte the best here, your Highness,” Zayn fails at not gritting the words out.

“You sound familiar…” Zayn thanks his lucky stars that without the loud music, his voice apparently sounds different. “‘Zayn’, that’s your name?” _Fuck, stupid name tags_.

“What size would you like your mocha?” Zayn asks calmly.

“Zee,” _double fuck._ “You’re the bloke from the masquerade.”

“I think you got the wrong person,” Zayn tries to keep his calm façade.

“Zayn, I know it was you,” Louis hisses. “And large, please.”

“So what if I’m Zee? I told you, nothing’s going to happen between us,” Zayn hisses back before making the coffee. 

Something flashes in Louis’ eyes that makes Zayn flinch.

“I know you have another employee here, I can see his hair,” Louis tells Zayn. “So get up, I can see your curls.”

“Well shit, I thought it was an excellent hiding technique,” Harry huffs, standing upright. “Pleasure seeing you, Prince Louis.”

“You’re the Harry Liam has been talking about non-stop?” Louis cocks his head to the side. “Not as cute as I thought.”

“I will ignore that comment.”

“Tell your boss that Prince Louis wanted Zayn to take a day-off,” Zayn doesn’t like how Louis is using his authority here. “He and I got catching up to do.”

-

“You’re a menace, if I may talk to you that way, your Highness,” Zayn hisses at the prince.

They’re sat in the back of a limousine and it’s quite roomy.

“I can do whatever I please, I’m a prince, love,” Louis rolls his eyes at Zayn. “Why didn’t you come to the last ball?”

“Because I didn’t want to give you false hope,” Zayn replies honestly. “Where are you taking me?”

“Buckingham Palace, duh,” Louis rolls his eyes again. “You qualify as my friend, peasant or not, and I’m taking you to my chamber.”

Zayn had has enough of Louis and his flippant behaviour so he just crashes his lips to Louis’ just to shut him up. He didn’t expect Louis to kiss him back with much vigour, one hand cupping the back of his head. Zayn raises a hand to cup Louis’ cheek with one hand, and the other on Louis’ shapely arse. It’s a bit uncomfortable, given they’re both sat in the cat seat, but Zayn’s still squeezing the Prince’s arse. The prince moans into the kiss and trails his own hand to Zayn’s dick, palming him through the denim barrier. Zayn moans against Louis’ lips, nipping at his lips unconsciously.

“I can do anything I’d please,” Louis all but purrs out the words, unbuttoning Zayn’s fly. “Really, I can.”

“This is kid — holy shit,” Zayn swears oh-so-colourfully when Louis wraps his hand around Zayn’s now-bare cock, stroking him firmly. He thrusts his hips up into Louis’ hand, desperately needing more of his touch. Louis seems to get the idea, unbuckling his seat belt and kneeling on the car’s carpet, and laps at Zayn’s tip of his erection. Back in his mind, Zayn registers that the fucking _Prince_ is on his knees, about to suck him off. He buries his hand in Louis’ soft hair, guiding him down his length. Louis just obliges, taking him all the way to the hilt until Zayn’s tip hits the back of his royal throat. (Okay, that phrase sounded so much better inside Zayn’s head.) Zayn tightens his grip in Louis’ hair as the prince swallows around him, then without any warning (which won’t be necessary), he starts to bob his head up and down. Zayn doesn’t know if he should be jealous or surprised by the skill the royalty possesses, how he’s just teasing his prostate from the outside via jabbing at his perineum, (he’s a top, but he bottoms _very_ occasionally) and thumbing at the sensitive patch of skin under his balls. He feels like an inexperienced child, coming down a fucking prince’s throat within minutes.

“Didn’t the driver hear us?” Zayn realises belatedly.

“Does it matter?” Louis replies with his own question, a bit slyly. “And it’s not kidnapping if you’re willing to come to my chamber.”

-

The Buckingham palace looks larger with proper lights on. Zayn keeps in mind not to gawk at the décor as Louis leads him to his chamber.

“Okay, one of the maids might try to clean my chamber,” Louis informs him en route to his bed chamber. “If she does, I’ll just tell her to come back later.”

“Alright,” Zayn’s aware at the fact that the guards are already giving him a weird look. “So what exactly are we doing?”

“I’m collecting my birthday sex from you, rather late, but still going to,” Louis turns around just to smirk at Zayn slyly. “Damn, you look hotter than I imagined.”

“Thanks?”

 

As soon as they arrive at Louis’ private chamber, (that has to be at least the size of Zayn’s _entire_ flat) Louis presses his lips hard against Zayn’s. He doesn’t have a problem with that if it means he’s getting a lay. (Also, he’s about to get laid in a royal chamber, who’d have thought?) Louis tears at his clothes feverishly, and Zayn helps the prince getting rid both of themselves of those pesky items. Louis jumps up and wraps his legs around Zayn’s waist like it’s the most natural thing to do, and Zayn carries him to the bed attached at lips. He trails his lips from Louis’ lips to his jawline, nipping at the stubble-covered skin. He must have found the soft spot, because the needy sounds Louis lets out is just pure _delectably sinful_. He grinds down, sucking on the spot.

“Table,” Louis mumbles. Zayn looks down at Louis questioningly, but he just gives him a look so he reaches for the bedside table and opens the drawer. Sure enough, there’s a box of condoms and a bottle of lube there.

“How many blokes from parties do you take to your chamber?” Zayn asks.

“Not a lot,” Louis sounds small.

“Ah,” Zayn pops the lid of the lube open and applies a general amount to his fingers, not knowing how long it’s been since the last time Louis had sex. “Tight security?”

“Can’t exactly go around shagging random blokes when my mother wants me to marry a bird and produce heirs,” Louis confesses, his cheeks heated. “I don’t know why _she_ ’s so concerned when it’s my father who’s most likely to be crowned after, you know, she passes away.”

“We can chitchat after I fuck your brains out, your Highness,” Zayn grins, pushing one finger in. Zayn _swears_ that Louis clenched around his finger. He thrusts it in and out of the prince experimentally, then adds a second. Louis glares at him, as if telling him to add another, so he complies, fucking Louis’ hole with three fingers. Louis is letting out those delectable moans, making Zayn grow even harder. He pulls his fingers out, rolls the condom on himself, and slathers some lube on his length.

The first slide in is heavenly, Louis’ walls sinfully tight around him. Louis whines low in his throat, encircling his waist with his strong thighs. Zayn reclaims Louis’ lips, thrusting into Louis’ tightness at a fast pace. Louis seems to enjoy that — or he just likes it rough — moaning loudly. Zayn snakes a hand between their bodies to jerk Louis off as he pounds into the prince, his moans muffled by Louis’ thin lips.

“Close,” Louis whispers against Zayn’s lips, and Zayn spills into the condom as Louis clenches and unclenches around him rhythmically.

Zayn pulls out and knots the condom, throwing away into the trash can before falling asleep.

-

“Wake the fuck up, Zayn, I’m in trouble!” Louis’s urgent voice wakes Zayn up from his post-coital nap. “NOW!”

“Ugh,” Zayn replies intelligently. “Why are you in trouble?”

“Because, I didn’t know, but a few paparazzi got pictures of us entering the palace together and now the photos are released,” Zayn opens his eyes to see that Louis is scowling. “Obviously, my parents aren’t happy that I got ‘caught’, and you know, I have to procure heirs and shite.”

“You’re not likely to be in power for decades,” Zayn yawns, looking for his clothes. “Be a dear and pass me my pants?”

“This is a serious matter,” Louis hisses, his light blue eyes snapping with fury. “I can’t just randomly say you’re my consort when you’re a bloke, no offence.”

“Wait, I’m your consort now?” Zayn figures out that he has to retrieve his own clothes and does that. “One quick shag and now I’m your consort?”

“Well, technically?” Louis sounds uncertain. “Okay, we aren’t dating, but I’d like to.”

“Ugh.”

-

**two months later**

“I never thought I’d say this but… being part of the royal family sucks,” Zayn groans, garnering a giggle from Louis. “Not funny!”

“It is to me,” Louis shrugs as some people try to take picture of them.

It’s been two months since Prince Louis’ coming of age masquerade balls, and two months since Zayn and Louis started dating. Zayn isn’t complaining, he really is fond of the prince he’s fallen for, even though he’s told the prince that he had no intention of falling for someone.

“You were _born_ into this family!” Zayn hisses. “I’m not used to the attention, I used to be a meagre café barista.”

“And now you’re sort of consort of Prince Louis,” Louis retorts.

Zayn shuts his boyfriend up with a kiss on his lips.


End file.
